My baby brother would have been 49 years old today.
He began playing piano when his feet weren’t quite able to reach the pedals. A nun from school was teaching him for a hot second until little David declared that she was too slow and he wanted to figure it out on his own. And figure it out he did.
Moonlight Sonata was the first song I remember him mastering, and then playing on repeat, filling the house with that haunting melancholy. But from that moment on, I completely lost track, his growth was simply meteoric.
I understand now that he was that certain freak of nature people call a prodigy. Talent beyond belief, intelligence outside the norm, esoteric thoughts far too complex and layered and rapid cycling that it was impossible to predict what would come next.
Would you believe that this kid was self-taught? Listening to him, I still can’t believe it myself and I saw him with my own two eyes. Every time that I heard him play live, I would just sit and marvel, telling anyone close enough to hear, “That’s my brother.”
Elegy for my Brother (earlier post)
Be well,
Nicole
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